Chapter 28

The Distance Between Them

Kael stopped touching her after Elder Thorne revealed the truth.

Not abruptly enough for anyone else to notice.

But Lyra noticed.

Of course she did.

The change lived in small things.

The way he no longer stood close enough for their sleeves to brush accidentally in crowded halls.

The way he stepped back first now whenever conversations ended.

The way his eyes lingered on her for half a second too long before he forced himself to look away again.

Like proximity itself had become dangerous.

It hurt more than she expected.

That was the embarrassing part.

“You look miserable,” Seraphine observed over breakfast while slicing fruit with unnecessary elegance.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lyra stared at her sister flatly.

Seraphine sipped tea.

“He’s avoiding you.”

“I noticed.”

“He’s terrible at it, by the way.”

That didn’t help.

At all.

Across the great dining hall, Kael stood near the northern commanders reviewing military reports with enough concentration to suggest the papers personally insulted him.

He hadn’t looked toward Lyra once since entering.

Not once.

Which felt significantly louder than staring.

Fenrir noticed too.

Mostly because Fenrir noticed everything when emotionally dysfunctional people created unnecessary tension around him.

At one point he looked between Lyra and Kael before muttering:

“I miss simpler problems. Like assassination attempts.”

Blackfang itself had changed after the festival.

Word spread fast despite every effort to contain it.

The wolves kneeling.

The glowing fortress symbols.

The command.

Some servants now lowered their eyes whenever Lyra passed. Others stared too long before quickly looking away. Several northern nobles had suddenly become painfully polite in the particular way powerful people behaved around things they didn’t understand but feared might destroy them eventually.

The loneliness of it settled quietly beneath her ribs day by day.

And Kael—

Kael kept retreating.

Three days passed before Lyra finally cornered him properly.

Not intentionally.

At least not initially.

She’d gone searching for Elder Thorne near the western archives only to find Kael alone in the old strategy gallery overlooking the snow-covered cliffs instead.

Maps and military reports covered the long stone table nearby untouched.

Kael stood near the balcony windows staring out toward the mountains like he expected war to emerge directly from the snow.

Which, honestly, seemed reasonable lately.

He noticed her immediately.

His shoulders tightened almost invisibly.

There it was again.

Distance.

“You’re avoiding me.”

No greeting.

No careful softening of the accusation.

Just truth.

Kael remained silent for a moment before answering.

“I’m busy.”

Lyra almost laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was such an unbelievably terrible lie.

“You barely looked at me during breakfast.”

“That’s not a crime.”

“No. It’s just strange coming from someone who used to stare at me like I personally offended his survival instincts.”

Something flickered across Kael’s face.

Gone quickly.

Still there.

Snow drifted heavily beyond the balcony windows while silence stretched between them.

Kael finally set down the report he’d been pretending to read.

Carefully.

Too carefully.

“You should stay farther from me right now.”

The words landed flatly.

Practiced.

Like he’d repeated them internally a hundred times already.

Lyra crossed her arms.

“You said that before the moon fever.”

“This isn’t about the fever anymore.”

That unsettled her immediately.

Kael looked exhausted again.

Not physically.

Emotionally worn thin in ways even sleep probably couldn’t fix anymore.

“You heard Thorne,” he said quietly. “The kingdoms will come for you eventually.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re acting like I stabbed your dog.”

A faint startled sound escaped him then.

Not laughter exactly.

Closer than she’d heard in days.

But it disappeared almost immediately.

Kael walked toward the balcony railing slowly before bracing both hands against the cold stone edge.

Outside, storm clouds rolled low across the mountains while wolves patrolled the fortress walls below.

“I spent most of my life learning how to survive dangerous things,” he said eventually.

Lyra stayed silent.

Waited.

“My father.”

“The wars.”

“The northern courts.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“I understood those.”

The quietness of his voice made the next words land harder.

“I don’t understand you.”

Something painful moved through her chest at that.

Not because he feared her.

Because he sounded angry at himself for it.

Kael looked back toward her finally.

And for one brief unguarded moment, Lyra saw the truth sitting plainly beneath all the restraint.

He wasn’t distancing himself because he wanted less of her.

He was terrified he wanted too much.

“When you used your power in the courtyard…” He exhaled slowly once. “Every wolf in Blackfang obeyed you instinctively.”

Lyra swallowed carefully.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Immediate.

Certain.

That somehow hurt worse.

Kael’s gaze dropped briefly toward the silver marks visible beneath her sleeve.

“The problem is that part of me wanted to kneel too.”

The room went still around them.

Lyra’s breath caught softly.

Because Kael did not admit weakness.

Ever.

And yet the confession sounded ripped painfully out of him anyway.

“I don’t want worship,” she whispered.

Kael looked at her with something dangerously close to grief then.

“That’s exactly why this is becoming impossible.”

The silence afterward stretched unbearably.

Snow tapped softly against the balcony glass while distant fortress bells echoed somewhere far below.

And suddenly Lyra understood:

Kael wasn’t merely afraid of her power.

He was afraid that one day he might stop being able to separate devotion from instinct entirely.

Lyra stepped closer anyway.

Not enough to touch him.

Enough to matter.

Kael noticed immediately.

His breathing changed slightly.

His wolf always reacted first now.

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Walking closer when I’m trying to leave space between us.”

His voice sounded tired.

Not frustrated.

Tired in the way people sounded after fighting themselves too long.

Lyra looked at him quietly for a moment.

Then softly:

“You know what the worst part is?”

Kael waited.

“I think I miss you even when you’re standing right in front of me.”

The honesty slipped out before pride could stop it.

And judging by the expression that crossed Kael’s face afterward—

it hurt him too.